A Fire Shall Be Woken
by Arthur88
Summary: The sequel to "From the Ashes". Though the Blight may be over, Arthur Cousland's troubles are far from over...Will cover post-Origins, Awakening and beyond. Slightly AU with numerous OCs and familiar faces likely to make appearances. Mostly Cousland/Leliana for now, but maybe a bit of Cousland/Morrigan and Cousland/Bethany thrown in as time goes on...


_Hey all, I'm back! Took longer than I expected, and I should warn you now, for the time being updates to this and to the planned story I've got in the works to follow up 'Joined Together' are going to be **VERY** sporadic for the moment, what with me starting a new job and trying to finish a writing project of my own that I kind of need done by the end of July, but with this little bit, I'm making a committment to continuing the story of Arthur Cousland. Plus, my enthusiasm for Dragon Age has been rekindled after seeing the new trailer for Dragon Age: Inquisition (if you have not seen that already, do so **NOW! **Believe me, you will not be disappointed...except by the fact we have to wait so long for it!)_

_So you know, this story will cover the time between the end of DA:Origins and the beginning of DA: Awakening, then go paralell to the events of DA II and Inquisition, assuming I ever get round to it...hopefully this one will wet your appetities for more. Reviews and opinions always welcome._

_And of course, with the exception of my character and the embellishments I make to this, much to my chagrin, I don't own Dragon Age; everything you recognise belongs to them._

_As always, above all else..ENJOY!_

* * *

_**One month after the Battle of Denerim**_

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the sight of the Maker and Andraste to join this man and this woman in the bonds of holy matrimony…"

From his position at the front of the congregation, Arthur watched as the bride and groom joined hands at the Grand Cleric's direction. Alistair had something of a nervous smile about his face, constantly staring at the young woman in white opposite him as if he were having trouble believing this was actually happening. The young king was dressed in his finest; a black doublet with padded shoulders and slashed sleeves to show the underlining, made from cloth of gold and trousers made from the same dark fabric. He also wore a black linen cloak, stitched in gold thread with the two hounds of House Theirin and atop his head, the ornate gold, diamond-studded crown of Ferelden's king.

"She looks beautiful" the woman next to him whispered, casting an envious eye over the bride's attire as she was escorted up the aisle by her brother, Irminric clad in the armour of a templar knight-lieutenant polished to a mirrored sheen. If the man still had any signs of the months of incarceration or torture he'd endured at the hands of Loghain and Howe, he gave no sign of it. The bride looked exquisite, dressed in an airy confection of white silk and lace, Alfstanna having grown out her brunette hair from the short, spiky boyish crop it had been into luscious chocolate-brown tresses that fell to her shoulders, pulled back from her face with a silver, sapphire-studded circlet upon her brow, the diadem worn by Ferelden's Queen, recovered from the unworthy hands of the Mac Tir bitch who'd besmirched it.

"As do you, love" he said, and wrapped his arm around Leliana's waist. She was indeed. Leliana had put her hair up for the day, was wearing a gorgeous dress of emerald green satin edged with gold silk that really brought out the colour of her eyes, and a delicate silver chain supporting a wolf's head pendant with emeralds set into it for eyes hung around her neck. Arthur himself had chosen to wear clothing fashioned from chequered blue and white fabric on honour of the Grey Wardens, his new raiment a gift from a wealthy benefactor in the hopes of gaining favour with the Hero of Ferelden. The rest of the congregation were also similarly attired in their best; to Arthur's left, Eamon and Teagan Guerrin dressed in scarlet trimmed with white, the colours of their House with Redcliffe's emblem embroidered on their breast, along with Bann Sighard of Dragon's Peak, Bann Reginalda of White River, Bann Loren and numerous members of Ferelden's nobility and other worthy guests beside dressed in a riotous variety of colours, particularly those who'd stood behind the young king's claim at the Landsmeet and contributed their forces to the destruction of the Blight. There were others present who, while their status merited them an invitation, were of somewhat more suspect loyalty and thus merited being watched closely. The last thing Alistair's young reign needed was some overly ambitious noble trying to cause trouble in the chaos of the Blight's aftermath.

"Still, you must admit I'd look much more fetching in white..."

Arthur rolled his eyes; _another_ one. The bard had been dropping hints- frequent and none of them subtle- all throughout the preparations for the royal wedding that she expected a wedding of her own fairly soon, that she had no intention of the child in her belly being born a bastard. Arthur had to admit the notion was tempting, but duties and other requirements were all placing serious demands on his time, far too much of it to even think about planning another wedding. _'Still, I have got the better part of eight months to get it done. There's time enough yet to give her what she wants'._

"Do you, Alistair of the House Theirin, take this woman, Alfstanna of the House Trevelyan to be your lawful wedded wife...?"

As Arthur listened to the Grand Cleric directing the bride and groom through their vows, he reflected on how it had been a long time since he'd attended a wedding; the last one had been when he was fifteen and the entire Cousland family had been invited to witness the union of Cailan and Anora. Not that Arthur had paid much attention, being more interested in trying to get close to speak to the bride's father, the legendary Loghain Mac Tir, the Hero of Ferelden, wanting to hear his idol talk of the Battle of River Dane and the other conflicts of the Rebellion that Arthur and his young friends had spent their childhood re-enacting. Nor did he now like thinking of that particular ceremony, considering how it had ended in dispute and backstabbing that had almost destroyed the nation the marriage was meant to cement.

The thought of Anora made a frown cross Arthur's face for moments. He tried to think about the former Queen-now lying in a suicide's grave at the nearest crossroads outside Denerim, with her body dumped in one ditch and her head in another- as little as possible. He didn't regret what they had done-Anora would never have accepted defeat, would never have yielded her attempts to reclaim the crown she saw as rightfully hers. There would have been nowhere they could imprison or banish her from where she would not return, bitter and more determined than ever to seize the crown, and while she lived, she would be the perfect standard around which Alistair's political enemies and any dissatisfied with his rule could rally behind. Even so, the memory of the underhandedness of his actions rankled for a moment, until in his mind's eye, Anora's face was replaced by another woman's, dark-haired and pale-skinned, with pale-gold eyes burning with glee and full lips set in a triumphant smirk as he spent himself within her and she got the prize she had wanted all along, and Arthur remembered he had been a willing participant in far worse than the discrete execution of a deposed queen. _'I can only hope they never learn what I did to try and save them; I doubt they would ever understand, much less forgive me...'_

Before that, he still remembered being a thirteen year old rambunctious troublemaker fidgeting in tight-fitting clothes, annoyed at being sat in a stifling Chantry, forced to watch and listen while his big brother bound himself to some flowery Antivan girl he'd only known for a handful of weeks. Oriana had looked radiant though, and Arthur couldn't remember Fergus looking happier before then. The thought made him look down the pew, with a pang of regret and worry, to the empty spot that should have been occupied by his brother. A messenger had arrived from Highever two days before, apologising that the Teyrn would be unable to attend, for he was busy putting down agitators loyal to the old guard of Loghain and Howe before they incited the city and potentially the entire northern coast into rebellion. Arthur had been meaning to go to Highever, but duty and Warden business had kept him busy in the capital…not to mention his own reluctance. He had no doubt ghosts he'd thought buried would return to haunt him in that place and he wasn't sure if he was ready to dig up the past just yet.

The Grand Cleric proclaimed the pair before her man and wife, and a cheer rose from the congregation as with a kiss, the pair began their reign and a new chapter in Ferelden's history. Arthur, eager for an excuse to escape his morose musings and genuinely happy for the man who'd become like another brother to him, joined in with them heartily.

* * *

Arthur was woken from sleep sooner than he would have liked by a hand on his shoulder. Groggily shaking tiredness from his eyes, he glowered up at the royal page boy who'd shaken him awake, who did have the good grace to look abashed.

"Sorry, my lord, but His Majesty has commanded your presence immediately. He said to tell you it was urgent"

"You're lucky I don't believe in shooting the messenger" Arthur growled in mock warning as he reluctantly pulled himself from the warmth of the sheet's and his lover's embrace, looking around for clothing that he had discarded in the throes of passion that he and the bard had found themselves in when the festivities the previous night had finally concluded. The page boy withdrew from the room to wait for the Warden to be ready before escorting Arthur to the king's presence.

"What's going on?" Leliana murmured groggily, waking up as she realised the absence of a warm body in the bed beside her. Arthur gently made his lover lie back down and pressed his lips to her temple, motioning for her to stay put.

"Alistair needs me for something; no doubt the king. Stay here, keep warm; there's no sense in the both of us getting up. I'll try to come back as soon as I can" Arthur promised as he pulled the last vestiges of clothing on and dabbed water from a nearby brass bowl over his face and hair in a quick attempt to make himself look presentable, watching as Leliana curled up again beneath the blankets, her hands resting on her, for the time being, still flat stomach before exiting his quarters, closing the door behind him and following the royal page to his appointment with the king.

The page boy led him through the great hall, where even now, numerous elves were working to clean up the mess of the previous night's revelries, moving around the handful of guests who had either fallen asleep in the midst of the festivities or were still enjoying themselves too much to turn in; he could still see Oghren quaffing down another tankard of ale, while beside him slumped Bann Teagan, still unconcious from the drinking game he and the dwarf had played, even though Oghren's victory was several hours old. He saw movement behind a tapesty and heard a squeal of pleasured delight that sounded like Habren, Arl Bryland's daughter; clearly, he and Leliana weren't the only ones to have their passions aroused by the revels-there would liekly be a fair few bastard children conceived in the night. The wedding feast had been a relatively Spartan affair-it had seemed unfair to indulge on fine fare when the common people were starving, the harvest having been extremely meagre on account of the Blight and the civil war- but even so, an air of celebration had been affected, in order to give some genuine cause for hope that with the Blight ended, the archdemon dead and the darkspawn horde routed, there was a chance for a new beginning after so much hardship and suffering in recent years on the part of Ferelden's people.

The atmosphere had been one of hopeful anticpation, of creating new and better memories to help put the darkness and suffering of the previous year behind them. What food and drink were available was flowing freely and the attendees had been in a celebratory mood as Arthur had learned, as between one course and another, the Hero of Ferelden had been dragged out of his chair to dance with one guest or another, first Leliana, then Keeper Lanaya, then Bann Reginalda of White River and then the bride herself as the dancing and the music had spun the king and queen apart and Alistair had found himself partnered with Habren. Still, Alistair appeared to be in a good mood, showing no signs of his usual insecurity and uneasiness when it came to dealing with beautiful women or public speaking, and had even just laughed when Arthur had joked about how the king felt facing doing his duty in the marriage bed later. Queen Alfstanna had been equally gracious, complimenting Arthur on his dancing and his changed demeanour from the rambunctious second son he'd been when talk of a betrothal between them had been mentioned years ago, making no mention of his maimed hand and paying respectful courtesy to his actions in the last battle before the music compelled them to switch partners, Alfstanna ending up dancing with Bann Sighard and Arthur finding himself back with Leliana.

The cream of Ferelden high society had been invited. King Bhelen hadn't been able to attend, but he had sent a delegation of solemn, richly clad deshyr lords and ladies, headed by, for once, a respectful Vartag Gavorn who expressed a desire to speak to King Alistair about a military alliance between Denerim and Orzammar in a bid to push the remnants of the darkspawn horde back further into the Deep Roads and away from the dwarven holdings while the creatures were still broken abd reeling from Urthemiel's death. A number of Dalish Keepers had made the long trek from both the Brecilian forest and the new lands to the south that they were beginning to colonise as their own, where good things were being reported of them; the elven clans were working with the locals to repair the damage to the surrounding lands and root out any marauding bands of darkspawn or tainted wildlife left over from the Blight. A group of representatives from the Denerim alienage were also there, including their new hahren, Shianni and Niamh Tabris , also in more festive mood than before; in the past month, Alistair had repealed many of the abusive and prejudiced laws against the elves of the capital, namely the ones barring them from carrying weapons or owning businesses of their own.

There were even rumours that Alistair intended to do the same with every Alienage in Ferelden and still planned to name a Denerim elf a Bann, to speak for all their people in the Landsmeet in recognition for the aid of the elves during the Battle of Denerim and to ensure an atrocity like Loghain and Caladrius's exploitation of them never happened again (such a pronouncement came in the wake of celebrations that had erupted in the alienage when word came that the ship transporting those taken by the Tevinter slavers had been attacked by Rivaini pirates near the Free Marches, and the vessel had run aground off the coast of Kirkwall. The Kirkwall City Guard, under the order of their fearsome captain, had hung any slavers who survived the shipwreck and sharks to make it ashore, and the elves who made it ashore were being housed in the city while a deal was being made between the King and Kirkwall's Viscount to arrange them passage home).

The elves had been delighted at the mention of such a prospect, but while Arthur agreed with such measures, given his own sympathy for the elves and his belief that change was the only way things could progress and become better, he knew such measures would have to be done carefully; there'd been enough protests and complaints from more close-minded members of Denerim's merchants and craft guilds complaining that the elves were undercutting their profits by working more cheaply than their human counterparts and numerous nobles had complained about the notion of overturning generations of tradition by allowing an elf to hold a title and speak in the Landsmeet. While promises of recompense and threats of reprisal had kept most of the anger from manifesting itself as little more than angry words and a few stones thrown through elven windows, Arthur knew that it was going to take a lot of work to get people out of their old, entrenched mindsets and at least willing to consider the prospect of betterment for all, not just a select handful. Plus, he was less than eager to sympathise, considering most of those complaining were those who'd either sat on their hands or looked to their own profits as Loghain and his cronies had torn the country apart, ignoring the pleas of the Grey Wardens before and after Ostagar and unwilling to help any but themselves in the face of the darkspawn advance.

Almost every Arl and Bann was in attendance, as well as some representatives from the Chantry, though there were noticeable absentees, Knight-Commander Greagoir and First Enchanter Irving for a start. The Grand Cleric, after performing the ceremony, had lingered at the feast only as long as duty demanded and then made her excuses. Arthur couldn't help but feel that was a harbinger of more trouble; the priestesses and templars hadn't stopped complaining ever since Alistair had made his decree beside the funeral bier of Arabella Amell of his intention to grant freedom to the Fereldan Circle of Magi. For the time being, Alistair had managed to placate most of the Chantry's outrage by pledging that no further action would be taken on the matter at least until the Divine had had a chance to express her opinion on the matter, but that opinion was likely to be a long time coming, what with the rumours coming from the Orlesian capital, the centre of Chantry power, that spoke of unrest in the Chantry as Divine Beatrix neared the end of her life and the Grand Clerics, Revered Mothers and others of the Chantry heirarchy gathered like vultures around a dying animal, waiting to see who would take her place on the Sunburst Throne. Arthur could only hope Beatrix's replacement was one who would both be more willing to consider new approaches, as well as rein in the hardliners in the Chantry and Templar Order. Given that in the past month, Arthur had heard mutterings that many Fereldan templars considered Alistair's views on mages enough cause for an Exalted March, Arthur hoped the new Divine would bring such fanatics to heel before the hardliners took matters into their own hands.

Alistair also looked like he'd been roused from a comfortable sleep, dressed in a billowy white shirt and woollen britches that looked like they'd been slept in as the page boy, bowing low to the king, ushered Arthur into the royal apartments, slumped as he was in the chair behind the oaken desk of his study. Alfstanna was also awake, standing behind Alistair and leaning against her new husband's chair, hair tousled and dressed in a nightgown and bedrobe of blue wool that looked like it had been hastily thrown on, and like her husband looking annoyed at having been disturbed following her wedding night, as was Eamon, who was still dressed in his wedding finery, looking as if he had fallen asleep at the table in it, slumped in another chair, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and trying to keep his head from nodding against his chest.

"What in the name of Andraste's tits are we all doing up at this hour?!" Arthur demanded the moment he sank into the proffered seat. He took a brief glimpse out of the room's window and saw a faint line of red and gold on the distant horizon; it was barely even sunrise and they were already up and discussing business of state. _'Whoever said the work of government never sleeps spoke the truth'. _Alistair, Alfstanna and Eamon all looked at him, and Arthur felt a glacial chill go through the room_. 'Something's wrong' _he realised instantly_._

"There is a matter of business we need to tend to immediately. We need you to attend to this, discreetly and immediately, Arthur"

"Why?" Arthur asked, confused as to why all the occupants of the room were looking at him as if they expected him to fly off the handle at the first wrong word.

"Because this involves you, or your family at least. Riders arrived in the night…from Highever. The tales they told…well, I dread to think" Alistair spoke, speaking with no trace of his usual humour. Arthur knew that whatever had happened, it had to be serious.

"Bring them in" Alistair called out to someone outside the door of the royal apartments. A knight of the Palace Guard ushered in two figures; a slim male elf with long black hair tied behind his head, dressed in dark green robes marked with the Circle of Magi's insignia, while the other was a well built warrior of middle years, dressed in veridium plate armour with the hilt of a greatsword protruding over the top of his shoulder. Arthur recognised them immediately; Arl Leonas Bryland of South Reach and Enchanter Merlin Surana. Arthur mentioned his surprise at seeing them; last he'd heard, the Arl had gone to reclaim his holdings from darkspawn that had lingered to loot and pillage as the Blight tore through South Reach, and he had heard talk that his brother had persuaded the Circle to allow him to retain the elf's services for the time being.

"My lord" Arthur asked, surprised and curious as to why the pair of them were there, and why they were looking at him with wary expressions, as if wanting to speak to him but afraid to, as if they suspected his reaction to their words would be extremely bad. The Arl found his voice first.

"Arthur, forgive me for what I must tell you. Believe me, I don't like saying these things about the son of one of my greatest friends…but avoiding a hard truth won't make it go away. Arthur, your brother has gone mad. In his grief and rage over his family, he is lashing out at anyone who in his grieving mind he holds responsible"

"That is a grievous accusation" Arthur snapped, angry at such slander. _'Has my brother not suffered enough?'_. "Where is your proof?"

"I have witnesses, people who fled the city, not least of all good Merlin here. The stories they told me…I could scarcely believe them. The Revered Mother executed with molten gold poured down her throat, the Highever Chantry burned to the ground…with every priestess, brother and lay-sister inside, mass executions of prisoners of war taken when the city fell, wholesale destruction of businesses and people with even the remotest connection to Amaranthine…the list goes on" Bryland finished sadly, shaking his head ruefully, sounding as if every word spoken was like pulling a barbed hook from his flesh, stricken by the pain of getting it out and desperate to get to the relief of having it done. "Fergus is conducting a crusade of revenge against anything with the slightest connection to what Rendon Howe did. The teyrn's bannermen are scared, wondering if their lord will see their inaction against the usurpers as proof of their complicity and subject them to a taste of his...'justice'"

Queen Alfstanna took up the tale next. "We were hoping you can speak with your brother, reason with him, get him to give a reason for such slaughter…otherwise we will be forced to send an army to bring his excesses to an end if this situation gets any worse. We don't want to do that, Arthur; the last thing Ferelden needs is to slide back into another civil war so soon after the Blight's end. The people have suffered enough. No one, least of all I, would argue Fergus does not have good cause to want revenge, but this…_carnage_ cannot be allowed to continue. We did not overthrow the likes of Loghain and Howe only to do as they did to the people"

"Find out the reasons behind this purge" Alistair commanded. "Is this solely your brother's doing, or is another's hand behind it? Find a way to end the bloodshed and put a stop to this madness of your brother's, one way or another, for if you, his own blood, cannot, then I fear we will have to find another way". The grim bluntness of Alistair's tone left no doubt as to what 'another way' would entail.

Arthur grimly nodded, swearing to the king and queen that he would be dressed, prepared and on the road to Highever at least two hours after sunrise. He felt a deep sense of fear and worry. He was a Cousland and like his father, he always did his duty. Arthur merely prayed to the Maker that doing his duty by Ferelden didn't necessitate him having to kill his own brother for the sake of peace in the realm.


End file.
